WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND
by QT Roo
Summary: Jack tries to deal with Claire's death.......


*****PLEASE READ AND REVIEW....THIS IS MY FIRST L&O STORY...THANKYOU:o)**  
Written: July 6th,2000-E-Mail address:Gypsyroo@aol.com-Spoilers: Season 6(?):Episode: Aftershocks, and a few references to other episodes  
Disclaimer: Alright, alright...I borrowed Jack and the others without asking. They are not mine, if they were, Mikey would still be there. They belong to the almighty Dick Wolf, Wolf Films, and NBC, etc. I must say thank you to A&E for airing re-runs of the show. No infringement is intended . I'm not doing this for profit. Also, "Windmills of Your Mind" is not mine, and is from the original _Thomas Crown Affair_-Posting: If by some odd chance anyone wants to post this elsewhere, please ask me first. Thank you.  
-Other Info: I really have a 'Love/Hate' relationship with the episode 'Aftershocks'. The first time I saw it I was about 11. Shows like L&O greatly appeal to me as I aspire to become a Federal Prosecutor I've been intrigued with the law and wheels of justice as long as I can remember. I enjoy this episode it because of its rare insight into the minds of the show's characters. Yet at the same time, I truly loathe it because of its tragic ending in which my favorite character is killed. Everyone is affected by the sudden tragic death of Claire Kincaid, most of all her lover and partner, Jack McCoy. Jack becomes a crotchety old man after her death and loses some of his spunk. After seeing a re-run of 'Aftershocks,' I was inspired. Approximately five years later, I still hate that last scene. Afterward, I just had to write something about Claire's death. Finally, I decided to delve further into Jack's misery and torture in this piece. Any errors in reference to information regarding characters and the aforementioned episode are solely my responsibility. This is my first L&O fan fic, so please read it and be kind with your critique. Please take a second to write a review. Merci beaucoup.  
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WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND  
(For Jen, who shares my love of L&O and is a true Jack/Claire shipper like me)  


  
The building was essentially silent, the vacuum cleaners of cleaning staff muffled at the other end of the building. Lawyers, their clerks and other legal personnel had long ago faded, eager to get home to their happily awaiting spouses, children, babysitters and dogs. Everyone except Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy. Jack had no reason to rush home. His children were grown with children of their own, and he was many times divorced. No pets. He worked late hours and wasn't home enough to give a cat or dog the attention it needed. He perused a dossier in the ominous silence. Deafening silence. He slammed the papers down loudly on the top of the credenza. He tore open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a fifth of Dewars. He moved the bottle gently from side to side, watching the amber liquid swirl inside its glass prison. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig. He closed his eyes as it burned down his throat, sending a faux sense of warmth over him. There was no need for a glass. He had no company to uphold proper decorum for. No one would know. No one cared. He was just fine. Fine. When everyone said they were fine, they weren't fine. Fine was a mask for the truth. He took another swig. The alcohol started to take effect. Comfort. Anaesthesia.  
  
It was late, but never dark. Not in Manhattan. He chose to keep the Venetian blinds closed. There was no need to remind him that the entire world was out there, and they moved on. But he couldn't. There was nothing to go home to, not anymore. She was gone, his beautiful Claire was gone. There was not a single thing he could do about it either. Countless lives have been placed in his hands, and he played a significant role with their fate. Justice.   
  
It had all happened so fast, that last day, like everything was on fast forward. But at the same time, that was the longest day of his life. They had accompanied Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Ray Curtis, to witness an execution. Claire had gotten extremely upset and they had gone to her apartment. She wouldn't sleep and they'd made love, for the last time. They had gotten into a heated argument about the death penalty, to which she was vehemently opposed. She'd been driving and he got out of the car. Stubborn. He told her he'd take a cab to the office and he'd call her later. Why did he leave her? That was the last time he saw her. She hadn't been feeling well. She thought she had the flu and got the rest of the day off. He'd given in and called her later than morning. There was no answer. After work, he had gotten himself plastered and he'd called her to come get him. She knew as much as she was angry with him, and they'd been arguing, she wouldn't refuse. She said she'd be there as soon as she could and that she was eating takeout with Anita. That was the last time he heard her sweet, sultry voice.   
  
But he had to be a damn fool and called a cab. He got tired of waiting, patience not one of his strong virtues. He didn't think she was coming after all. He'd cursed at her for that. "And to hell with her." Now he was sorry, sorry about everything. She'd found Lennie at the bar, who had broken his vow of sobriety. Seeing no signs of him, she offered to take Lennie home. A drunk driver plowed into the car on the darkened, deserted street. Claire was killed instantly upon impact. There was no pain. He was thankful for that. Lennie had only been mildly injured, and managed to get out of the car. He rushed to her side but as he saw her bloody head on the steering wheel, pinned inside the car, he knew she was gone. Lennie told Jack that he wished it had been him, that he was an old man and had lived a relatively good life. But Claire was just a kid who had her whole life ahead of her; a career, possibly a husband and children. He didn't shed a tear when he found out. He'd bottled it up inside and let it corrode his insides and every part of his being. He was consumed with grief. A large part of him was dead and it was his fault. If he had only waited.......  
  
Jack got up and laid on the couch. He'd sleep here tonight. He always kept a change of clothes and a clean suit at the office. Jack lived and breathed law. He cursed under his breath. He had forgotten to shut the desk lamp off. He languidly got up and extinguished it. He laid back down on the couch in the dark and drank deeper into his loneliness.  
  
********  
  
The next day was a blur for Jack. He functioned, but he was really dead inside. It was after 8 PM and Jack sat at his desk, engrossed in a file. "Go home, Jack." said a voice. For a split second he thought the voice was Claire's, before sadly realizing it was only Jaime Ross. They didn't even sound alike. What was he thinking? Jaime Ross, Claire's.... what? Replacement? No, no one could ever replace her. She wasn't expendable. She had talent and wit and he loved her. She had loved him. Hell, he hadn't even wanted another assistant. He told Adam he'd borrow someone's clerk or something. But Adam said no.  
  
"I'm not leaving until you do." she said. Why the hell did she have to do this, he asked himself.  
  
"Then you'll be here for awhile." he said. "Go home to your daughter, Jaime."  
  
"My ex has her tonight." She rested her hand on the back of the chair facing his desk. "I have no reason to rush home."  
  
"Neither do I."he said.  
  
"Would you like to talk about it?"   
  
How many times had he heard that last sentence? Everyone had asked that, or they had said nothing. Even Liz had started in on him.'Talk to me, Jack. As a friend or as a shrink, your choice.' "No."he practically snapped, his face contorting with a cross of anger and pain.  
  
"I didn't know her well, but I know everyone loved and admired her. Its alright to miss her, you worked together for so long. But first you have to accept that she's gone." He didn't want to hear her words. He didn't need to. She didn't understand.  
  
"It's time for you to go." he said.  
  
"Touché, counselor, for you as well."   
  
Why couldn't she leave him alone? "Fine." he said, surrendering. He didn't want to hear anymore of her tirade. He got up and got his coat and headed out the door, pausing in front of the elevators. He turned around to see Jaime standing there. "Satisfied?"  
  
She looked at him. "Goodnight, Jack."  
  
********  
  
Jack entered his darkened apartment. "I'm here, now what?" he muttered. He didn't want to be here, he didn't really want to be in the office either. Everywhere he went, he was reminded of Claire. It pained him to remember him, but at the same time, he was scared he'd forget her and she'd fade away.  
  
He threw his coat on the arm of the couch and went to the mini bar. He selected Brandy. He sat down in his recliner, flipping threw endless channels, finding nothing of interest. There was a strong rap at the door. Jack ignored it. Whoever it was, was relentless as they knocked again. Jack made no attempt to get it. Another knock. He got up agitated and unlocked the door, chain still in place.  
  
In the hall stood Mac Geller, Claire's stepfather. The man was a law professor at NYU and not much older than Jack. "I came by before if by the remote chance you were home early for once."  
  
"I was at the office." Jacked replied.  
  
"I figured as much."he said, shifting his weight. "May I come in?"  
  
"I'm sorry." he said. "Of course." He shut the door and undid the chain and reopened it.  
  
Mac stepped inside. "Drink?" Jack offered. As much as Jack didn't want company, he preferred not drinking alone.  
  
"No, thanks. I won't be here long. I have something you'll want to see." He handed Jack a standard white business envelope.  
  
"Thank you." Jack said. The envelope had been opened meticulously with a letter opener or a sharp knife. He turned it over. On the front, he immediately recognized the confident, calculated script. It was Claire's. The letter was addressed to her mother and there was no postmark. Jack was so engrossed in his careful examination of the envelope, he didn't notice that Mac had let himself out. Jack handled the envelope as if it were made of ash and could disintegrate into nothing any second. He gently removed the letter and unfolded it. It was dated the day of her death. She must have intended to mail it.  
  
_Dear Mom,  
  
At least this is a start. I still owe you a phone call and a visit. I've been so wrapped up in everything. I feel like I'm being spun in a circle, and won't stop spinning. "Round, like a circle in a spiral like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning, on an ever spinning reel."  
  
I've have to reevaluate my life and expectations for the past few weeks. I've witnessed an execution and it will stay with be for the rest of my life. It truly if a double edged sword. Killing a person is wrong, but if someone has killed another, it all of a sudden becomes okay to execute the murderer. But who's the real murderer? We all are. What better are we than criminals?   
  
I've been thinking of leaving the D.A.'s office, and law all together for awhile. Later this afternoon, I'm going to go have a talk with Mac. Maybe he can help me with my decision. Every time I visit him in the lecture hall, I get deja vu. It really wasn't that long ago that I was in the same position as his students. I love what I do, at least I do most of the time. Jack has been a great mentor, friend and lover. I love him. I never thought anything would develop between us, but obviously I was wrong. What do you always say? "Fate comes upon us in stealth." I know Jack will make a wonderful father. I'll tell him when the time is right. He's already noticed that I haven't been feeling well. It's only been five weeks but I'm already starting to get morning sickness. It feels like the flu. Keep the baby a secret between us for right now.   
  
Jack and I got into an argument this morning and I wish it never happened. I got so angry at him. I'm stubborn at times, and I just couldn't let it go. I know we'll work past it. We always do. I'm planning on making dinner for him tomorrow night. I think I'll tell him then. I love you, Mom. Send Mac my love. The five of us should have dinner one day. (;-))  
  
Love,_  
Claire  
  
********  
  
The letter slipped from his fingers. He knew Mac hadn't given him the letter to intentionally cause any further pain, but so he'd known that she had forgiven him and she loved him. For the first time in years, Jack McCoy cried.  
  
********  
  


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